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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101896">You’ll Always Find Me In The Drift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalamaLilikoi/pseuds/MalamaLilikoi'>MalamaLilikoi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Drift Compatibility, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Zarkon (Voltron), Jaegers (Pacific Rim), Kaiju (Pacific Rim), M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, POV Alternating, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, a lot of cussing, broganes, eh lotors still a shit but redeemable, klance, possible smut?? It depends, they have a bonding moment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:20:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalamaLilikoi/pseuds/MalamaLilikoi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Keith was a kid, whenever he felt small or lonely, he’d look up at the stars. Wondering if there was life up there in the vast expanse of space.<br/>Turned out he was looking in the wrong direction...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi this is my very first fic, so pls be kind. Writing this has recently been a great creative outlet for me during quarantine and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it😊❤️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Keith was a kid, whenever he felt small or lonely, he’d look up at the stars. Wondering if there was life up there in the vast expanse of space.</p><p>Turned out he was looking in the wrong direction.</p><p>When alien life entered everyone’s world it was from deep beneath the Pacific Ocean.</p><p>A fissure between two tectonic plates. A portal between dimensions. The breach.</p><p>He was seven when the first kaiju made land in San Francisco. By the time tanks, jets and missiles took it down, six days and thirty five miles later- three cities were destroyed.</p><p>Tens of thousands of lives lost.</p><p>People mourned their dead. Memorialized the attack, and moved on.</p><p>And then, only six months later, the second attack hit Manila.</p><p>And then the third, then fourth...</p><p>And quickly the world learned, that this- was just the beginning.</p><p>A new kind of weapon was needed.</p><p>So the world came together, pooling it’s resources and throwing aside old rivalries for the sake of the greater good.</p><p>To fight monsters, they had to craft some of their own.</p><p>Thus The Jaeger program was born.</p><p>There were setbacks at first. The neural load to interface with a Jaeger proved too much for a single pilot.</p><p>So a two pilot system was implemented. Left-hemisphere, and right-hemisphere pilot control.</p><p>Battles began turning in their favor.</p><p>Jaegers stopping Kaijus everywhere.</p><p>But the Jaegers were only as good as their pilots.</p><p>So Jaeger pilots turned into rock stars.</p><p>Danger turned into propaganda.</p><p>Kaijus into toys.</p><p>The euphoria of winning like a high to the world, as the victories began to outweigh the losses.</p><p>The scale finally tipping in humanities favor.<br/>But then, it all changed...</p><hr/><p>~~<br/>Tokyo, Japan 0100</p><p>Sometimes Keith thinks all he’s good for is fighting.</p><p>Whether it’s in a Jaeger or in the ring, it’s all he seems to be alright at. He thinks this to himself as he sits by his lonesome, wrapping his hands in a dimly lit gym at one in the morning.</p><p>“We’re here in Sydney today, where earlier yet another Kaiju attack took place.” A reporters voice on the TV catches Keith’s ear.</p><p>“The Kaiju, an enormous Category four broke through the coastal wall in less than an hour.</p><p>The Wall of Life had been deemed unbreachable by its builders.” Keith stands tearing the end of the tape with his teeth, glancing up at the screen in passing. Scenes of the kaiju bursting through the wall as if it were nothing, are plastered on the news. The creature rearing its ugly finned head and roaring as it trudges past the Sydney opera house.</p><p>By day Keith did construction on the Wall of Life. To say it was a project he had little faith in would be an understatement, but he needs to earn his rations somehow. Only now it all seems even more futile as Keith watches the shakily filmed videos from the attack. No need for rations if you and everyone else are dead.</p><p>With that in mind he hops into the ring to hit the bag he’d set up. Attempting to take his mind off the reality of the world, and let his muscle memory overpower his racing mind. Starting with light punches he begins to build up his momentum.</p><p>“Ironically,” the reporter continues, “it was the recently decommissioned Jaeger, Galra Empire. Piloted by Lotor and Zarkon Quíntessence that finally took the beast down.” the sound of Keith’s fists colliding with the bag echo across the gym as his swings get sharper.</p><p>“Lotor why do you think there has been so much push back from the UN about funding the jaeger program?” God where was the remote?</p><p>“It’s because of mediocre pilots. That simple.” Lotor’s oddly posh Australian accent sounds from the TV. Keith’s jaw tightens simply hearing him. “They tarnish the reputation of the rest of us.” Fucker, as if every Jaeger pilot didn’t do their very best or die trying to save people. Just drown him out. </p><p>On Keith’s last hit he feels his knuckle pop uncomfortably and he draws back. Nope, he reprimands himself. He’s not about to injure himself over this asshole.</p><p>His knuckles ache and his body is already covered in a light sheen of sweat. Decent warm up he supposes.</p><p>“Kolivan,” Keith calls for the last person in the gym. Kolivan, the owner of the gym, emerges from the kitchen doors behind the bar. A towel thrown over his shoulder and his usual blank expression. “Remote?” Keith asks, doing a gesture with his thumb as if pressing a button on an imaginary remote. Kolivan rummages behind the counter before tossing Keith the device. Catching it midair from where he’s leaning against the ropes of the ring he turns off the TV. He doesn’t want to hear that grating voice for another second.</p><p>“And these,” kolivan pipes up, the jingle of metal clinking causes Keith to look back up. “Use them to close up when you’re done.” Keith barely catches the keys tossed his way. “Turn the lights off, and return those to me tomorrow morning okay kid?” Kolivan points to the keys Keith’s staring down at in his palm as he slips on his winter coat.</p><p>“Will do. You be safe out there rōjin.<em>” </em>The older man waves his hand dismissively over his shoulder as he opens the door. The fifty year old man is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, what him being a retired heavy weight champ and all; but since Keith figured out his age he enjoys teasing him over it. Since the beginning of their relationship Kolivan has never let him forget he is young and has much to learn, so it's nice to have a little ammo of his own.</p><p>The slam of the door in Kolivans stead lets in the frigid winters night air. It gives Keith chills. Okay point old man.</p><p>Keith trains for another forty-five minutes until his limbs feel heavy, and the sweat makes his clothes cling to his skin. Wrapping things up he takes a quick shower, and packs up his things. Not forgetting to lock up shop like the long grey haired man asked.</p><p>Locking the door in his wake Keith hears the crunch of wheels in the snow down the street. He begins trudging up the snowy inclined street in hopes of making it home before three. And getting at least five hours of sleep before his grueling twelve hour shift at the top of the wall.</p><p>The sound of the crunching snow gets clearer as the car approaches him, and then the last thing Keith wants to happen, happens. The car comes to a halting stop beside him. Allowing an eerie silence to settle in the early morning air.</p><p>Keith turns to see who he’s up against. Since there’s no way a stranger this late at night, or rather this early in the morning, is casually approaching him in a large nondescript black vehicle. Just as Keith starts to dexterously slot Kolivans keys in between each of his fingers</p><p>glossy black wingtip dress shoes emerge from the car, catching the yellow tinged street light in their reflection.</p><p>“Kogane.” Alfor.</p><p>“Looking sharp. Long time no see.” He states nonchalantly as he adjust the button on his black trench coat. You had to be kidding him.</p><p>“Three years, five months to be exact. Can I have a word?” His British accent more pronounced than Keith remembers it being. Then again he mainly heard it on the comms back then.</p><p>Keith remains silent, hoping his annoyed look will be a sufficient enough answer.</p><p>“Hiroshima, Kyoto, Nagoya, now Tokyo.” Apparently not.</p><p>“Travels with the wall, been chasing shifts to make a living,” Keith turns on his heels, beginning to walk back up the street hoping Alfor will take the hint. Only, he follows behind him, the epitome of the word consistent.</p><p>“There’s an old jaeger a Mark 3. You may know it.” It stops Kieth in his tracks, “It needs a pilot.”</p><p>“Guessing I wasn’t your first choice.” He turns to face the white haired man, hoping to shew him away with a glare.</p><p>“You are my first choice.” He corrects Keith, his breath visible in the crisp Tokyo air.</p><p>“Every other mark three pilot is dead.” And the comment makes something inside Keith tick.</p><p>“Look-“ he marches towards Alfor who stands there completely undisturbed. His beard and hair perfectly matching the surrounding snow fall, “I can’t have anyone else in my head again.” He growls “Not after what happened with Shiro.” The heat leaving his voice at the mention of his brother. There’s a beat of silence between them, and Keith takes it as his cue to storm off. Fuck this guy. How could he possibly think after what happened Keith would jump at the chance to be in a jaeger again.</p><p>Piloting a jaeger meant drifting with a stranger, letting someone see and feel everything you have. Not only to mention everything someone you’ve drifted with before shared with you. It meant letting someone in on personal matters.</p><p>Better yet it meant letting someone in.</p><p>“We talked to Mr. White.” And it’s like all of the air has been knocked out of his lungs.</p><p>“Adam?” He barely gets out, but Alfor hears him.</p><p>“Mr. Shiroganes husband, yes. In fact he was the one who told us where to find you.” He approaches Keith where he’s stopped, coming to stand beside him, his hands folded behind his back. “You’re a hard man to find Mr. Kogane.” Why would Adam tell these people where to find him? What had they said to him?</p><p>“Haven't you heard, Mr. Kogane?” Alfor continues, “The world is coming to an end.</p><p>“So where would you rather die?” His vibrant eyes lock onto Keith, making sure that his next words truly get to him.</p><p>“Here, building that useless wall and scrapping it in the ring for extra units?” Alfors voice projects, “or really making a difference in a Jaeger?” and even though he says it in an even tone it resounds in Keith’s ears.</p><p>Keith lifts his head meeting his gaze in the tinged street light. It’s set and determined.</p><p>There’s long silence as Keith thinks about what he’s about to do. Again.</p><p>“...I’d have to visit some people before I left, pick up some things.”</p><p>Alfors face remains unmoved and serious as he speaks, “It can be arranged.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A bit of a longer chapter today, still from Keith’s POV. Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">“So you’re leaving for Hong Kong in less than half an hour?” Adam asks as he bites the inside of his cheek. A nervous habit Keith has picked up on in his three years of living with him. Keith nods his head in response. </span>Hong Kong harbors the last remaining jaegers, in the last remaining battle station in the Pan Pacific.<br/><br/></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve left all my ration cards on the coffee table,” Adam looks ready to argue so he swiftly adds, “they told me I won’t need them there, open ports and all, so you can take mine.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their relationship is more one of silent mutual understanding, versus constant communication. So it was odd to have longer conversations. Except in moments like this, when they’re standing outside of Shiros hospital room. Although not some of his favorite conversations, they’ve all ended up being ones that needed to be had. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I need you to take care of yourself and be here in case...” Keith can’t find it in himself to finish the sentence, not wanting to give himself a false sense of hope. Nonetheless Adam understands his silence. It’s one of the things Kieth has grown to be grateful for about his brother in law. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know I will.” Adam reassures placing a hand on top of Keith’s shoulder, trusting him enough to believe him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Call me whenever you can,” Adam pushes his glasses up his nose bridge as he meets Keith’s eyes. “I know your schedule will be crazy but it’s good to at least try to establish a routine. Okay?” It was moments like this that Adam painfully reminded him so much of Shiro. No wonder they got married.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay.” The glare of the hospital lights on his glasses shield Keith from seeing his eyes. Making it hard to know exactly what he’s thinking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want to lose you too, but I wasn’t about to stop them from giving you a choice to be apart of something again.” He pulls Keith into a hug. “The world needs you.” Adam says over his shoulder, “So don’t push them away.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that they break away from each-other. Keith shouldering his rucksack as he digs in his pocket, then places Kolivans keys into Adam palm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you make sure Kolivan gets these,” Adam smiles down at the silver key ring with a boxers glove trinket. “He didn’t know I was leaving tonight.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Neither did you,” Adam adds, his thumb smoothing over the glove. When he looks up at Keith this time the glare is gone. Allowing Keith sees that his eyes are glossy from withheld tears.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. Neither did I.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2">~~</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hong Kong 0730</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they arrive in Hong Kong it’s a cold rainy morning. From where the chopper hovers Keith can see people with umbrellas and in raincoats swarming the tarmac like colonies of ants. People carting large tubes glowing a greenish yellow.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they land Keith goes straight for the exit, in hope of finding the the ominous glowing tubes he spotted from above. Not minding the cool sensation of the rain as it falls onto his skin. However his focus is immediately diverted upon hearing a pair of unique voices yelling loudly enough to be heard over the heavy rain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean you didn’t bring the cable for the neural transmitter Hunk?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pidge, we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now! All the equipment is getting soaked.” Keith can’t help but turn to see who the voices belong to. One them is a tall hulking guy, wearing a yellow bandanna around his forehead. Handing off what appears to be lab equipment to whoever can take it, instructing them to put it in the elevator inside. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck you and your fish, now I have to diy another cable!” The other voice appears to belong to a short individual with a mop of messy reddish brown hair, and large round frame glasses.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. Kogane,” Alfors voice rips Keith out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the task at hand.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leads them across the puddle ridden tarmac, approaching a dark figure holding an umbrella veiling their face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Alfor approaches them they hoist the umbrella to cover them, revealing their features.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">Oh</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is Lance McLain, one of our brightest.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keith’s attention doesn’t waver on the man beside Alfor as he extends an umbrella to him. He takes it mumbling his thanks as he gazes at one of Alfors finest. Lance eyes him right back.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes resembling the deepest parts of the ocean are accompanied by warm tan skin, the two complimenting each-other remarkably. There was something about Lance that Keith couldn‘t take his eyes off of.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Also in charge of the Mark 3 restoration program. He personally handpicked your copilot candidates.” Lance offers a thin smile, and a nod of acknowledgment in Keith’s direction at Alfors comment.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“él no es lo que esperaba.” Lance says, his eyes remaining on Keith but his words clearly intended for Alfors ears only. Beside him Alfor opens his mouth to respond but Keith interjects before he has the chance.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“¿Qué esperabas?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A smirk graces his lips as Lance turns shy upon hearing him speak Spanish. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My apologies. I saw in your file you spent some of your childhood in Okinawa, then moved to the states. I just assumed...” He trails off.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Texas.” Keith supplies, “speaking Spanish is kinda of a big thing out there.” Keith shrugs and it earns a smile from Lance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We will tour the facility first and then Mr. McLain will show you to your Jaeger.” Alfor pipes in looking down at his wrist watch, “We have a tight schedule so let’s keep a move on.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">With that they’re ushered inside out of the rain and into the elevator. Which when they enter is full of </span> <span class="s1">large glass tubes containing what appear to be gigantic moving organs, suspended in yellow green liquid. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So that was what Kieth saw on the tarmac.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hold it! Hold it please!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hold the door please!” Kieth places the side of his foot against the elevator door, holding it open for two more people to come bounding in drenched from the rain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s yellow bandanna and glasses from the flight line, or as Keith heard them earlier address each other as, Hunk and Pidge.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks man” Hunk says catching his breath. “Yeah thanks,” Pidge rushes as they clean their glasses with their shirt. “Now stay back. Kaiju specimen are extremely rare so look but don’t touch please.” They place their glasses back on their nose bridge, and that’s when Keith notices how young they are. They didn’t look a day older than 15.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. Kogane this is our research team. Dr. Holt and Dr. Garret” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Call me Pidge, and this here is Hunk,“ Pidge says as they began to roll up their soaked sleeves, extending their hand to Kieth. “Only our parents call us doctor.” Keith shook their hand. Eyeing the fully colored forearm tattoo on Pidge. Keith knew things resembled the apocalypse but could kids just go get sleeve tattoos these days, also their doctorates? He supposes the last of everyone’s worries right now we’re well educated teens and them getting... kaiju tattoos? Interesting choice Keith thinks to himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yamarashi?” Which makes Pidge look down at their colorful tattoo and grin brightly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, you got a good eye.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Brother and I took him down in 2020.” He says trying to not let the sadness of recalling Shiro still being around apparent in his voice. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know he was one of the biggest Category threes ever?” Pidge lights up as they continue, “2500 tons of awesome-“ Hunk nudges Pidge. Effectively cutting them off from saying anything else that could get them in trouble. Keith sees Lance out of the corner of his eye press his lips together in a tight line, as if holding himself back from saying something. To be fair so was Keith, so he just levels Pidge with a disappointed stare. Pidge seems to notice then that they are being met with disapproving reactions. The passion flicking off. They clear their throat trying to recover,</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Or awful. You know, whatever you wanna call it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pardon them they’re a kaiju groupie. They love them.” Hunk attempts to remedy.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up Hunk, I don’t love them, okay?” They glare at Hunk from where he towers over them. “I study them. And unlike most people, I wanna see one alive and up close one day.” They huff defiantly, pushing their glasses up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Trust me Pidge,” Keith turns to look at them, “you really don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Readjusting his beaten up rucksack on his shoulder, as he files out of the elevator alongside Alfor and Lance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So that’s your research division?” Keith questions when the elevator doors close behind them, and they start down a long hallway.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We're not an army anymore, Mr. kogane.” Alfor stops in front of a large steel door, as Lance punches a code into a keypad. “We're the resistance.” The inner sealing mechanisms in the door audibly turn, opening to a jaw dropping sight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Welcome to the Shatterdome.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keith had never seen anything like it in his life. Sure he’s seen Jaeger hangers before, but nothing to this level or scale of operation. The place is bustling with people in uniform. Jaegers tower under an astronomically high dome ceiling.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>There were so many trucks transporting jaeger parts that there are designated traffic lines on the glossy black floor. Which Keith realizes a little too late when he’s almost run over by one, the wheels coming to a screeching halt and the driver scowling at him. He swiftly moves out of the way raising his hand in apology but they’ve already floored it, clearly put behind due to Keith. This place evidently ran a very tight ship. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He could wander around the place for hours and still have only seen a fraction of what it has to offer. As he tries to take in all of it, he can’t help but look up in awe, where a large digital clock hangs over the door they entered through.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“War clock.” Alfor supplies upon seeing Keith eye it, “We reset it after every Kaiju attack. Keeps everyone focused.” Alfor motions with his head for Keith to walk with him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The frequency of attacks are accelerating.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How long until the next reset?” Keith asks trying to keep pace with him and Lance.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A week if we’re lucky. My experts believe there’ll even be a kaiju attack before then.” Keith had no idea it was getting to this point.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This complex used to lodge 30 Jaegers in five bays just like this one.” Alfor points to the massive empty bays. “Now we only have four Jaegers left.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is bad. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes. It is.” Alfor agrees.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keith hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alfor continues walking, beginning to point out the three jaegers present in the shatterdome.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Juniberry, machined right here in Hong Kong. </span>One of the greatest.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Alfor looks up fondly at the painted white mecha, accented with pinks and blues. But the most prominent markings on it are the signs of use, the dings exposing the shining metal underneath and scuffs from battle. It’s sharp jutting shoulder armor, and angular features scream agility and sharpness.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Full titanium core, no alloys. Fifty diesel engines per muscle strand. It’s a deadly, precise fighter.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Her pilots are some of the best we’ve ever seen. They've successfully defended </span>Hong Kong port seven times.”</p><p class="p1">There’s a foreign twinkle to his eyes for a second, but its gone in an instant when Lance clears this throat and he’s moving on to the next jaeger in sight.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That tank, is the last of the T-90s.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rover, both pilots from Russia.” It wasn’t hard to spot the ‘tank’ Alfor was referring to, it was the bulkiest jaeger Keith had ever seen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“First generation Mark 1. The heaviest and oldest Jaeger in the service.” Kieth believes it. The thing looks like it was produced during the atomic era. The Jaeger still dripping wet, looking fresh from a mission.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But make no mistake, Mr. Kogane, it's a brutal war machine. And those two,” Alfor pauses to point at the two pilots still clad in their armor, walking side by side in perfect unison.<br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nyma and Rolo Volkoff. Rover’s pilots.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I've heard of them. Perimeter patrol, Siberian wall. Unbreached for six years. It’s impressive.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Impressive indeed Mr. Kogane.” Keith keeps looking in their direction. Six years of being the sole protector in one place, and not a single breach was impressive to say the least.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alfor turns to face the third jaeger, “Galra Empire-“ Kieth practically gets whiplash from how fast he turns around.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The fastest jaeger in the world.” A gruff Australian accent interrupts.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zarkon, good to have you back in one piece.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good to be back.” Zarkon quips playfully, a friendly smile plastered on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zarkon, this is Mr. Kogane-“ Alfor begins but both don’t need the introduction.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well if it isn’t Keith!” And his hand comes down to pat Keith on the shoulder chummily.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No need for the formalities here mate, Kogane and I know each other from when our jaegers dropped together. You were much smaller then of course.” He taps his broad jaw in thought, “You’re around my boy’s age and he was eighteen in those days.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It should be noted that Keith didn’t have a problem with Zarkon at all, it was his pompous son that struck a nerve with him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes sir. It was a three jaeger drop, four years ago. My brother and I.” Zarkons easy smile falters at the mention of Shiro. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">”Sorry about your brother.” His tone changes to softer more sympathetic one.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you sir.” Keith tries to keep it short. Not wanting to be around when Lotor decides to show up. He’d rather avoid trouble on his first day.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright I see no further need for introductions so let’s keep a move on.” Keith has always been grateful for Alfors directness. ”Zarkon.” With that Alfor and Zarkon exchange knowing glances, and him and Lance continue the tour. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You haven't told me what I'm doing here yet.” Keith says, keeping pace with the duo. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We're going for the Breach, Mr. Kogane. We're gonna strap a 2400 pound thermonuclear warhead to Galra’s back. And detonate an equivalent of 1.2 million tons of TNT.” Alfor states it so matter a factly that it was almost like the plan didn’t include some of the most destructive weapons known to man. “The Russians can get us anything.” Alfor answers Keith’s unasked question.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All while you and two other Jaegers will be running defense for them.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Sir, we've hit the Breach before. </span>It doesn't work, nothing goes through. What's changed?” So much has happened since he left, it was annoying not being in the know anymore. Alfor looks down at his watch.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I've got a plan. I need you ready. That's all. Mr. McLain will show you to your jaeger now.” Lance was suddenly right beside Keith. “Good to have you back.” Alfor adds neutrally as he marches past him and out of the hanger.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you ready to start Mr. Kogane?” Lance asks, not even looking at Keith but rather flipping through the pages on his clipboard. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As I’ll ever be.” And Lance looks up at that, his dark blue eyes searching Keith’s. A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Keith supposes he found something in them worth smiling about, and it almost makes him smile for no particular reason in return. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then let’s begin.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Honestly I’d rather live through a kaiju invasion than whatever the actual fuck is going on with 2020. Anyways BLM, donate if you can my loves<br/>https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here come my favorite nerds😪💕 Pidge POV</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really Hunk who the fuck was he to say I didn’t want to see a Kaiju up close one day?” Pidge huffs from where they sit atop one of their steel lab tables, munching on a bag of crisps.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hunk rolls out from underneath where he’s connecting wires for their new holo projector.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A Jaeger pilot.” He stands wiping his hands on his dark cargo pants, “A literal Jaeger pilot Pidge.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">”...fair enough.” Pidge says recalling how the Kogane dude did mention taking down Yamarashi back in 2020.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, fair enough.” Hunk taunts, chuckling.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I meant for the science not the experience!” Hunk doesn’t look at them as he moves to wipe down his chalkboard.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The doors to the lab suddenly slide open, and they’re greeted by Alfor and none other than the pilot of The Galra Empire, Zarkon Quìntessence. They stand their, looking intimidating for a second as they look at the current state of disarray in the lab. Boxes litter the room, containing research papers and monitors waiting to be set up.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They have to weave in and out of the boxes in an attempt to reach Hunk and Pidge.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry for the mess” Hunk apologizes as he begins to move boxes out of their way in hopes of clearing a better path.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s fine.” Alfor attempts to reassure, but his clipped tone makes it hard to believe. “lets get to the briefing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“O-okay then.” There are few people that intimate Hunk, but Pidge could see that Alfor was among those few.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As the two high ranking officials find their seats atop unpacked boxes, Hunk makes his way back to the large chalkboard on his half of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In the beginning, the Kaiju attacks were spaced out by 24 weeks. Then twelve, then six, then every two weeks.” Pidge decides to dismount from their table and walks closer to see the time line he’s drawing.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The last one in Sydney was a week.” Zarkon leans forward as Hunk further explains.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In four short days we could be seeing Kaiju attacks every eight hours at the rate of acceleration we’re going at. To the point where they’re coming every four minutes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The abrupt crunch of one of Pidge’s chips interrupts. Causing all three to turn and look at them.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hunk sends them a deadpan look that reads, ‘really?’</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">’Sorry.’ they mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sir we could witness a double event within seven days.”He continues.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. Garret I’m about to drop a weapon of mass destruction,” Alfor starts, “I’m going to need more than a prediction.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well you see sir,” Pidge interjects, placing their bag of crisps down and brushing off the seasoning on their fingers. “He can’t give you anything more than predictions.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Numbers don’t lie Pidge.” Hunk tries to counter as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Listen, there will be a double event, then three and shortly after four-“</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And then we’re dead.” Alfor adds in a serious tone.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Precisely.” Hunk exhales. “But this is where the good news comes in.” He turns back to face the chalk board, drawing two sideways ovals and two sloping lines connecting them on either side. Essentially drawing an hourglass figure. “This,” he points to the top oval with his chalk, “is our universe. And this is theirs.” He labels the bottom oval theirs. “Now this midsection, this in between is what we call ‘The Throat’. The passage between the breach and us.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">We know it’s atomic in nature, so I predict that with the increased traffic.” The increase in traffic meaning a shit ton more Kaijus coming for surprise visits, Pidge mentally notes. “It will force the breach to stabilize and stay open longer to get the device through and collapse it’s structure.” And with that he swipes the eraser through the midsection, symbolizing it’s severance.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah and thats where I gotta chime in, “ Pidge, well, chimes in. “because you see I wouldn’t want to go in there with that limited amount of information.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pidge-“ Hunk groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hold on give me a second please.” Pidge makes their way across the lab to where they have Kaiju DNA in their glorified refrigerator. Alfor and Zarkon stand and follow.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now we judge Kaijus on a category system because each one is completely different from the next, right?” Pidge turns to look for understanding head nods from the older gentlemen. Thankfully they nod, making their next point easier to address. “Well I don’t think they’re all completely different after all.” Pidge lifts out the two slabs of kaiju flesh from the fridge and places them on the lab table. “These are some samples I’ve collected. Now this one here was harvested in Sydney,” Pidge points to the newer sample. “And this was harvested in Manila two years ago.” They eye the second sample that Pidge remembers collecting with their research team in Uni. “They have the exact same DNA. They’re clones.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And this is the part where they go completely crazy.” Hunk says from where he leans against the board, massaging his temples.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There is so much more to the Kaijus than we can comprehend, we’ve truly only scratched the surface.” They turn to face one of theglowing chambers holding a large Kaiju organ.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is a piece of a Kaijus brain, now unfortunately it’s damaged and weak. But it’s still alive.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now I think, I can tap into it using the same technology that allows Jaeger pilots to share a neural bridge.” Pidge looks behind them ensuring Alfor and Zarkon are still following them. They are, but they don’t appear to be sold on the idea. “Think about it, we could tell you exactly how to get through the breach ourselves.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re suggesting we drift with a Kaiju.” Zarkon says seeming to be very put off by the idea.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no. Just a piece of their brain.” Pidge hopes to calms their worries.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The neural surge would be too much for a human brain.” Alfors supplies, seemingly to end the conversation.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I agree, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell them.” Hunk adds in sounding exhausted over hearing the exact same things he’s been telling Pidge repeatedly for months now.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t agree-“ Pidge tries defend how effective their plan would be, but Alfor cuts them off.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you Pidge. Hunk I’d like your data on my desk ASAP.” The two stand a bit in shock as Alfor refers to them by their first names.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, y-yes sir.” With that Alfor and Zarkon exit the lab, leaving a dumbfounded Hunk and Pidge in their wake.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are we on a first name basis now? Or-“</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hunk why did you do that, you know my plan will work.” Pidge explodes once collecting themself, slapping his shoulder harshly in retaliation.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ow! Hey,” he soothes his shoulder where they hit him. “Pidge even if you could,you’d kill yourself! And you’re so young.” Hunk pouts, “oh shut up, you’re only four years older than me.” Pidge refuses to cave to Hunks puppy dog pouty face. So they refuse to look at him and make their way back to their honey butter crisps.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Besides all the cool people die young.” Pidge mumbles around a chip loud enough for Hunk to hear.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It pulls a loud gasp out of him. Pidge cackles, “I’m only joking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’d better be, or I’ll have to kick your gremlin ass in the after life. I’m serious don’t try me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay I won’t” Pidge laughs heartily, spinning to look at Hunk who’s kicked puppy expression is gone.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Besides I’m not super young I’m seventeen for crying out loud.” Hunk’s wearing an unimpressed look on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sounded better in your head didn’t it?” “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“C’mon Pidge you’re still a baby.” He rips the tape off an unopened box</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A baby with a PhD, and an arm sleeve tattoo.” They flashed their forearm to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ethnic moms everywhere love and hate you so much right now.” He states as he balls up the packaging tape and free throws it across the lab into the trash. He makes it. Pidge offers him a crisp, not denying the shot was impressive. He takes it bowing. He was such a dumbass for being one of the most intelligent people Pidge has ever encountered.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fortune favors the brave Hunk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He ruffles their reddish brow hair as he crunches on the chip they awarded him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And the living.” Hunk finishes .”Now c’mon we still have to set everything up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah yeah I’ll do it quit your nagging.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pidge is glad to have hunk in their life. They’ve been missing having someone around to tease them like their brother would. Pidge misses their family like hell, but they have to figure this out. They did not spend hours upon hours studying the kaiju for their doctorate, until it became a deep fascination, for their ideas to be swept under the rug. Pidge has been so fortunate not to lose a loved one in all of this, and they want to keep it that way. They have to find a solution. And they have to do it fast. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated❤️<br/>We’re at 100 hits asjsksjwbhssb so excited y’all!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Y’all this past week has been crazy, I started working and going to school again, but I still plan to work on this fic. I’m not giving up guys, thank you for all the kudos they keep me motivated.<br/>Today’s chapter is from Lances POV</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
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    <p>
      <span>When they arrive at the bridge to see Keith’s Jaeger, they’re sanding her down in preparation for painting. Exposing the shining metal underneath.</span>
    </p>
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      <span>“There she is.” Lance acknowledges the beast commanding the room.</span>
    </p>
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    <p>
      <span>“She </span>
      <span class="passivevoice">
        <span>was shipped</span>
      </span>
      <span> in a few days ago. Before that she was sitting in an abandoned battle station in Tome.” </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Keith, who’s been </span>
      </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>patiently</span>
      </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span> following Lance around for the past ten minutes </span>
      </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>silently</span>
      </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>, crosses the bridge</span>
      </span>
      <span>. His sights glued to his old Jaeger as he leans on the metal railing.</span>
    </p>
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    <p>
      <span>Lance recalls the state she was in when she arrived.</span>
    </p>
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    <p>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Her left arm missing, a gaping hole piercing through the core, and a cavernous gap where the other half of the hull should have been</span>
      </span>
      <span>. But the thing that </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>really</span>
      </span>
      <span> captured Lances attention was the remaining arm. Where white faded characters </span>
      <span class="passivevoice">
        <span>were painted</span>
      </span>
      <span> across it. 黒いライオン. Translating to Kuroi Raion. Or as she was better known as, The Black Lion.</span>
    </p>
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      <span>Kieth looks up at The Black Lion with an unreadable look on his face when Lance approaches him. His dark grey eyes hazy as sparks from the construction shower down around them like ember rain.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
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    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“She looks like new.” Keith pipes up, his voice not giving away how he feels.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
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    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>He’s not wrong. </span>
      <span class="veryhardreadability">
        <span>In the short amount of time since she arrived, the welders and craftsmen have managed to weld a new section of the hull, seal all puncture holes and attach a new semi finished left arm</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Now The Black Lion stands </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>proudly</span>
      </span>
      <span>, even with </span>
      <span class="complexword">
        <span>all of</span>
      </span>
      <span> the scaffolding surrounding her. The team looking minuscule in comparison to her sheer mass.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Better than new.” Lance adds on. “She has a double-core nuclear reactor. She’s one of a kind.”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“She always has been.” Keith murmurs beside him.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“You can redesign her if you want to.” Lance offers before he even knows what he’s saying. “</span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>Externally</span>
      </span>
      <span> I mean, things like picking a new paint color.” He attempts to backpedal. Hoping he’s not promising too much.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“</span>
      <span class="qualifier">
        <span>Maybe</span>
      </span>
      <span> a new name.” Kieth huffs under his breath.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>And it’s not the response he expects.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Lance has read Keith’s file. He knows about every mission he has been on, including his last one to date.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>His report plus the appearance of The Black Lion providing him with enough visuals of that day.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>But nothing of what occurred afterwards.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Nor any information about the second pilot, Keith’s brother, Shiro.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Lance </span>
      <span class="passivevoice">
        <span>was provided</span>
      </span>
      <span> the bare bones.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span class="veryhardreadability">
        <span>The Kaiju Knifehead attacked, wiped them off of mission controls radar, they presumed them dead for </span>
      </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>nearly</span>
      </span>
      <span class="veryhardreadability">
        <span> an hour until a couple found a Jaeger washed up on the shore</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>The last page of his file was his resignation.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Lance didn’t know the extent of his pain, but he wants to understand. He wants to get to know him. Grasp what could have happened to make him want to change the name of one of the most iconic Jaegers of all time.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>But it isn’t any of his business to pry. So he doesn’t ask.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Without warning a kiwi accent breaks the thoughtful silence between them.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“How do you like your ride Kogane my boy?” </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Keith turns to face the orange haired man who’s twisting the ends of his infamous handle bar mustache between his forefingers</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Solid iron hull, no alloys. Forty engine blockers per muscle strand. Hyper-torque drive for every limb. Oh! And of course, a new fluid synapses system.” He adds </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>cheekily</span>
      </span>
      <span>. And it makes a smile break out across Keith’s face.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Come here.” The New Zealander beckons him with open arms.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“It’s good to see you too Coran.” Keith embraces him.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“It’s </span>
      <span class="qualifier">
        <span>just</span>
      </span>
      <span> like old times,” Coran steps back, looking up at Keith where he stands a few inches taller than him. “Except you’ve sprouted up there, now haven’t ya’?” He reveals patting Keith’s arm. Keith chuckles </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>good-naturedly</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Now don’t get Lance wrong, he loves Coran, and the sight of Keith’s toothy grin is a refreshing sight from his usual unreadable expression</span>
      </span>
      <span>. But the man could talk. So Lance interrupts, excusing them to wrap up the tour.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>“Jaeger bays, Canteen, showers,” Lance looks over his tour checklist aloud as they walk down the dorm corridor, “and living quarters</span>
      </span>
      <span>.” He stops in front of Keith’s room. “This is it.” Lance says with finality.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Which ones yours?” Keith’s asks. The forwardness of the question shocking Lance. </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>And it seems he isn’t alone because when he looks to Keith he seems surprised with himself too, a faint blush dusting the tips of his ears</span>
      </span>
      <span>. “I mean in case I need directions or uh...” he doesn’t complete the sentence.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Thats kind of what the tour was for Mr. Kogane.” Lance let’s out a soft snicker.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Keith.” He corrects.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Okay Kieth,” he walks across the narrow hallway to the door parallel Keith’s. “This is my room.” He taps the metal door with his pen. “In case you need directions or uh... something else.” </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Lance finishes for him </span>
      </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>playfully</span>
      </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>, not </span>
      </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>really</span>
      </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span> meaning anything by it but once he hears it aloud he realizes how it comes across</span>
      </span>
      <span>. </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>He feels his face heat up and when he looks to Keith the tips of his ear are now flushing a deep red, his longer raven hair </span>
      </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>barely</span>
      </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span> covering them</span>
      </span>
      <span>. He </span>
      <span class="qualifier">
        <span>just</span>
      </span>
      <span> met Kieth an hour ago and he‘s already ruining things. Lance clears his throat.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Tomorrow we’ll run physical compatibility trials with possible candidates for you.” </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Lance says in a more serious tone, making his way back to Keith’s door to show him how to open the hatch that confused and locked out many cadets</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Once he opens the door he thinks it best to end the tour there, before he says anything else stupid. But </span>
      <span class="qualifier">
        <span>just</span>
      </span>
      <span> as he’s about to part ways to allow Keith to unpack and settle in he </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>abruptly</span>
      </span>
      <span> asks him a question. </span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“So what’s your story?”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“My story?”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Restoring old Jaegers, showing has-beens like me around. That can’t be it. You a pilot?”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>It shouldn’t, but it feels like a punch to the gut when he asks.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“No. Not yet. But I want to be, more than anything.”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“What’s your simulator score?”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Fifty one drops, fifty one kills.” It’s a double edged remind that he’s good enough to be a pilot. Knowing he has what it takes, but still </span>
      <span class="passivevoice">
        <span>being denied</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Wow that’s impressive. But you’re not one of the candidates for tomorrow?”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“No.” He supplies, watching as Keith unpacks his backpack. “Alfor has his reasons.”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“Yeah, he always does, doesn’t he.” He says roughly as he flips through a stack of photos secured by a rubber band.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“But with fifty one kills I can’t imagine what they could be.” he looks up at Lance and flashes a small smile.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Cute, Lance thinks to himself.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>Wait what? Nope. No way, keep it moving Lance.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“I hope you approve of my choices for tomorrow. I’ve studied your fighting techniques and strategies.” Great keep talking strategy, Lance commemorates himself.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“And what do you think?”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
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    <p>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Lance </span>
      </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>practically</span>
      </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span> reads off the notes he took while picking Keith’s possible copilot candidates</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
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    </p>
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    <p>
      <span>“</span>
      <span class="qualifier">
        <span>I think</span>
      </span>
      <span> you’re unpredictable. You have a habit of deviating from standard combat techniques. You take risks that endanger yourself and your crew.” And for the cherry on top of </span>
      <span class="complexword">
        <span>all of</span>
      </span>
      <span> that brutal honesty he adds, “I don’t think you’re the right person for this mission.”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
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    </p>
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    <p>
      <span>“Wow.” He seems surprised but not wholly offended. “Thank you for your honesty.” </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>He looks down at the set of folded navy blue clothes provided to every cadet on his bed, looking deep in thought again</span>
      </span>
      <span>.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>“But one day, when you’re a pilot, you’re gonna see that in combat you make decisions.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
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    </p>
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</div><div class="">
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    <p>
      <span>And you have to live with the consequences. That’s what I’m trying to do.” His voice goes quite towards the end, as if he’s speaking more to himself than Lance. The clothes he’s been unpacking forgotten. Lance was beginning to worry.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
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    </p>
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</div><div class="">
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  <div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block public-DraftStyleDefault-ltr">
    <p>
      <span>What exactly had happened to him his last day in The Black Lion? Why did Zarkon apologize to him when he mentioned his brother? Had his brother died? Keith seems to break out of his trance right as Lance begins his. “Is there a phone here I can use?”</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p></p>
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    </p>
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</div><div class="">
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    <p>
      <span>“ </span>
      <span class="qualifier">
        <span>Just</span>
      </span>
      <span> down the hall, there’s a alcove with one.” </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>Kieth places both his hands on the door frame, leaning his torso forward to see where Lance is pointing down the hallway</span>
      </span>
      <span>. His chest coming so close that Lance can smell his cologne on his shirt. He smells like sandalwood and musk. Of course he smells amazing, because being big, cool and grizzled wasn’t enough.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
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    </p>
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    <p>
      <span>“Well I’ll leave to you to settle in.” With that Lance spins on his heels, trying to put space between him and Keith. He crosses the hall to his room, and </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>swiftly</span>
      </span>
      <span> shuts the door. Leaning his forehead against it, letting the cool metal rest against his flushed face. </span>
      <span class="hardreadability">
        <span>As he exhales a breath he hasn’t realized he’s been holding in, he thinks about how tomorrow he’ll have to see Keith sweaty and panting as he spars people</span>
      </span>
      <span>. Lance </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>nearly</span>
      </span>
      <span> combusts at the thought.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
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    </p>
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    <p>
      <span>He </span>
      <span class="adverb">
        <span>audibly</span>
      </span>
      <span> groans to himself. Tomorrow is definitely going to be a long day.</span>
    </p>
  </div>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lance POV Babi!! I know we all love some Lance content so I extended this chapter a bit hope you enjoy😘</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p class="p1"><br/>
~~~<br/>
Canteen, 0630</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The canteen is bustling per usual as Lance arrives for breakfast the next morning. His nerves somewhat calmed from yesterday after distracting himself with tasks. Attempting to not think about Keith and what he said. How restoring Jaegers and showing people like him around couldn’t be all he did, but it is. It’s not like Lance doesn’t want more. He does, he’s been trying to prove himself since he was sixteen and finally eligible to be a Jaeger pilot. But Alfor has his reasons for postponing making him one. He doesn’t agree with them, and continues to fight him on the issue, but he understands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lance!” A familiar voice calls his name from across the canteen as he grabs an apple from the breakfast bar.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Romelle is waving her arm excitedly to get his attention. Her long blonde pigtails bouncing as she skips towards him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey Romelle,” he catches her as she leaps at him giggling. “I saw Juniberry in the shattterdome yesterday, but couldn’t find you two.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh that’s because-“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We took the day off.” Allura finishes for her as she saunters up to them. She’s clad in the standard dark cargo uniform given to every cadet when they arrive. But of course Allura being Allura she’s breaking dress code by leaving her uniform button up undone, revealing her pink tank top, dog tags and rose gold chain her mother gave her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Romelle detaches herself from Lance and siddles up to Allura, taking her hand in hers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jaeger pilots can take days off now?” He raises his eyebrow and smirks at the white haired woman. Clearly teasing her for taking the day off with her girlfriend. She rolls her eyes at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not like that, Romelle had food poisoning during the mission.” Lance looks to Romelle and notice the dark circles still hanging under her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what was scarier the level three kaiju, or the prospect of vomiting all over my girlfriend.” She laughs as she leans her head onto her co-pilots shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That girl is always so chipper and energetic even when she is sick. For Christ sake she skipped over to Lance when less than 24 hours ago she was hurling inside a jaeger. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah I felt that.” Allura laughs back, pulling Romelle into an embrace. The sight of their lovey-dovey moment makes Lance’s heartache.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh get a room you two.” Lance feigns disgust. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh please you’re just jealous because you don’t have someone to hold your hand and call you pretty.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And okay, maybe that is true. However he mostly wonders what it must be like. To know someone so well because you’ve drifted. To be so close to someone because they’ve seen and felt everything you have. To have nothing to hide. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just a quick, this is who I am, no having to explain yourself and your story, it’s allput out in the open. But then again, it’s all out in the open. All at once. No choice in what they get and don’t get to see. Maybe Lance doesn’twant that after all. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever ‘llura let’s just sit down and eat” Lance huffs shaking himself from his thoughts.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Actually we met some new people and invited them to the table, they seem pretty nice.” As they approach their usual table Lance spots the ‘new people’. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lance, this is Hunk and Pidge.” Lance takes his seat across the table from the duo. The two immediately recognize him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hunk, Pidge this is-“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. McLain.” Pidge supplies pointing their spoon at him. He then remembers that Alfor always formally introduces everyone, often forgoing first names. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lance is fine, Alfor just appreciates formality.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We met in the elevator yesterday.” Hunk explains to a confused Allura and Romelle. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Less work for me then.” Allura plops down beside Lance, bumping him with her hip. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Scooch.” She says flatly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Allura I’m on the edge of the bench I can’t scooch.” She sends him a glare. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where’s Romelle gonna sit then?” Oh here they go again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know the other side of the bench.” He seaths back. He’s been up all night thinking about today and has barely gotten any sleep, so the last thing he needs to start his day off with is a tiff with Allura.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oy vey you two,” Romelle butts in “here just-“ she sits herself in Alluras lap. Effectively shutting her up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Happy?” She asks as she brushes a strand of curly white hair behind her partners ear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Allura looks ready to implode, but nods shyly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Blegh.” Lance pretends to gag at the sight.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up ugly ears.” Lance can’t help the gasp that comes out of him. His hand coming up to touch his ear.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s nothing wrong with my ears why do you keep saying that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because it gets to you.” A sly grin graces her face, just like when they were kids. This sick twisted bit-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guys,” they both turn to face Romelle. “We have guests.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">From where they sit across the table he sees a smiling Pidge and a snickering Hunk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah it’s fine, you guys remind me of my brother and I.” Pidge says cutting their egg in half with the side of their fork. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Allura has always been like a sister to him. They came into each others lives when they needed it the most. When they both lost important people, they gained each other. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You two siblings?” Hunk asks looking between them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” Allura doesn’t even hesitate. Stating it so matter fact as if there wasn’t a long painful story that accompanies it. Lance appreciates it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles to himself, as he thinks about how nice it is to know you have family and belong. Even if they tease you about your ears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Out of the corner of his eye he catches Pidge staring at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ya know when I saw you in the elevator you seemed so stoic,” they take a large bite of their eggs. “But now I see that you’re a chill guy. Just like my buddy Hunk here.” Pidge thumps their hand on Hunks chest, which resonates like a drum. Jeez that dude is buff.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lance gets flashbacks to when he was showing Keith around with Alfor. “I was pretty focused on work. I was helping tour the new pilot.” “New pilot?” Romelle asks peeling an orange.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! the new guy with the- the uhm, uh...” Allura snaps her fingers excitedly trying it remember the word. “Mullet?” Lance supplies. “Yes! That’s what it’s called, a mullet.” She takes half the orange Romelle places in her palm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Besides he’s not really new, he just seems to have taken a break.” They look at him as of they’re about to ask him what he’s means but suddenly a mop of black hair walks right past their table. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Allura unabashedly croons her neck to look at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop staring at him.” Lance hisses at her. “I just want to see the new but not so new guy.” Lance follows her gaze, a little curious himself to see where he goes to sit. Only, he finds Keith standing awkwardly conversing with Zarkon. Looking around as if he’s expecting a sneak attack. Zarkon suddenly lets out a loud belly laugh and clamps his hand down on Keith’s shoulder, pulling him down to take a seat beside him. “Wow he really doesn’t want to be there.” It seems Hunk also notes Keith’s tense body language from across the canteen. Lance stares contemplating getting up and inviting Keith to the table, but right as he begins to build up the confidence the southern doors suddenly burst open. Catching everyone’s attention. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lotor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dressed in his usual shoulder padded 50’s bomber jacket, and long white hair billowing behind him as he walks to where his father is seated with Keith. A very angry Keith Lance notices. He looks like he’s calculating how to properly off the cocky white haired pilot as he plops himself across the table from his father and him. Zarkon wears a face of disappointment beside a flexed jawed Keith. It seems Lotor has decided open his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh that douche bag always has to go and ruin things.” Allura scoffs as she aggressively eats her orange. Lotor had flirted with Allura once. Emphasis on once. And to say the least things didn’t go to well for him. As in he had to take the rest of the day off because Allura judo flipped his ass across the training deck, kind of not going well for him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Keith at this point seems to be fuming, his jaw visibly clenched and eyebrows scrunching together. Lotor must say something typically dickish because suddenly Keith’s eyes go terrifyingly wide and his hands slam on the table as he moves to lunge at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh shit.” Pidge pipes in, its seems everyone at their table is invested in whatever the fuck was happening. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lance knows he’s just met Keith but he didn’t seem the explosive type. So to see the taller man so irate comes as a shock.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zarkon swiftly blocks him with his arm, causing Keith to withdraw. Lance can’t make out what Zarkon says to his son, but he doesn’t say it with a smile, rather a forceful neutral face. The next thing he knows Lotor tosses his hair and stomps out of the canteen, slamming the door behind him. The room is quiet for a moment, then as if nothing has happened the sounds of chatter and clinking of silverware resumes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Zarkon takes a seat with Keith once again. The higher ranking man massaging his temples, and Keith eating </span> <strike><span class="s2">fighting</span></strike> <span class="s1"> his oatmeal like it has personally wronged him. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What just happened?” Pidge looks just as bewildered as Lance. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know, but it seems like Kogane and Mr. Walking Panteen commercial have some beef.” Hunk adds. Whatever the fuck it is, its nasty. And it doesn’t sit well with Lance at all. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p2"><br/>
~~~</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Training Room, 0900</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seeing Keith panting and sweating as he spars, turns out to not be as big a problem as Lance initially thought it was going to be. Well, it helpsthat Alfor is standing right beside him killing any smexy thoughts Lance could possibly have. If anything, the experience was beginning to get annoying. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keith swings his bo, cresting over the candidates head. They step to the side attempting to put distance between them, mindlessly leaving room for him to strike. However, Keith doesn’t take the chance. Instead he follows their foot pattern and closes the gap. Sweeping his staff behind them and hitting the back of their knees, taking them down in one fell swoop.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Why wasn’t he taking the chances they were practically handing him on a platter? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Four points to zero.” He continues prolonging the fight, while the opportunities to take down his opponent moves prior keeps appearing. He keeps doing it again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Four points to one.” And again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Four points to two.” And again. Three candidates down. At this point Lance can’t even pretend to be content.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, what?” Keith leans his weight onto the staff catching his breath. “You don’t like them? I thought you personally selected them.” He seems just as annoyed as Lance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Every time a match ends, you make this little gesture.” He sneers disapprovingly mimicking Lances reactions. “Like you’re critical of their performance.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not their performance, it’s yours.” The statement seems to take Keith aback. “You’re gambit, you could have taken all of them two moves earlier.” He can feel Alfors eyes baring into the side of his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You think so?” Keith lifts one of his dark eyebrows challenging Lance.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know so.” He lifts his chin, confident in his ability. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can we change this up? Let’s give him a shot.” Keith nudges his head in Lances direction. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stick to the cadet list we have Kogane.” Alfors voice commands the room. “Only cadets with drift compatibility-“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Which I have Alfor.” Lance interrupts. This could be it. This could be the thing that makes Alfor realize he can do this. That he’s ready to be a Jaeger pilot.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lance this isn’t just about a neural connection, it’s also about physical compatibility.” Lance isn’t blind, he knows Keith is bigger than him. With his bulging biceps and defined abs he can see clear as day beneath Keith’s thin tank top and those strong quads Lance greatly admires. All that aside it isn’t like Lance is a scrawny person, he has abs of his own and biceps that have scored him a couple of dates. Keith is barely an inch taller than him. Why is Alfor doubting him?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the matter Alfor, don’t think one of your finest can cut it in the ring with me?” Keith baits. Alfor blinks slowly, and licks his teeth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s clear Keith says it to get a rise out of Alfor, but something in his eyes shifts as he looks from Keith to floor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes Lances clipboard, and shoos him into the ring with it. “Go.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His message clear and received. Show this fool what you’re made of. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No need to tell him twice. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lance tries to not to seem too giddy as he takes off his boots and jacket. He has to not only show Keith but Alfor as well he has what it takes and more. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Four strikes marks a win.” Alfor reminds them as Lance is tossed a bo staff from across the training deck.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Remember, it’s about compatibility. It’s a dialogue not a fight.” Keith reminds him as they pace around each other on the mat barefoot. Keith spins his bo, catching it mid stance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I’m not gonna dial down my moves.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” two can play at that game. “Then neither will I.” He twists his staff overhead, andwith thoughtful control swoops it down to his left side, his right arm hovering for defense. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The raven haired man brazenly approaches him swinging his bo, barely stopping it from hitting his temple. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lance doesn’t flinch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One-zero.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lance smacks the bo out of his vision and forcefully swings his bo down. Pulling the same move Keith just has. It pulls a ooh from the crowd of cadets watching the trials. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keith may be quick, but he is also reckless </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One-one.” His tone challenging Keith. He pulls back, sticking to the proper form that’s been instilled in him since the Academy Garrison. Only its clear Keith doesn’t play by the rules, because as soon as he opens his stance Keith taps his waist. “Two-one. Concentrate.” Lance fixes his stance. If Keith wasn’t going to play by the rules neither was he. No holding back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keith strikes first, their bo’s crossing fast. Lance pushes him back, meeting each of his strikes directly. And even though they’re going at a rapid pace Lance can see he’s giving the jaeger pilot a fight via glimpses of his strained expression.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Keith lunges thrusting his bo towards Lances abdomen, and as if it is all planned and synchronized Lance side steps dodging the blow. Keith recoils, raising his staff to his shoulder in preparation for another strike. Lance decides to beats him to it. He swings his bo down to Keith’s shoulder lightly tapping it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Two-two. Better watch it.” Lance pants, smirking as he catches a glimmer in Keith’s stormy eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They both step back, putting some distance between them, neither one of them leaving their fighting stance. Once again Keith is the first to react, swinging his bo rapidly and Lance deflecting each blow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The energy building between them is palpable as Lance begins to feel like his skin is hot to the touch. All of Keith’s attempts are met with blocks. Until in the heat of the moment Lance hooks his bow under Keith’s arm, and using his torque throws Keith to the ground. He rolls recovering quickly, but not quick enough. Because when he prepares to stand Lance already has his bo to his neck. When their eyes meet the taller man is taken aback. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Three-two.” Lance exhales. He walks backwards slowly, not able to break their locked gaze. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mclain. Más control.” He hears Alfor remind him, but he doesn’t listen, completely forgetting why he was even in the ring. Because Keith’s eyes haven’t left him, and it makes him determined. Determined to do something.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Keith stands, and this time Lance makes the first move. Lance twists his body letting the movement swing the staff towards Keith’s chest. Keith blocks it. They dance around each other dodging and bending backwards to avoid the others strikes. But just as quickly as the sparring match turned heated Keith slots his bo under Lances arm and unexpectedly crunches forward, throwing him to the ground. It effectively knocks the wind out him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Get up Lance, get up. He wills himself to stand. Taking in small inhales and eventually exhales. All while not taking his eyes off of Keith once. This doesn’t feel like a fight, this feels like Lance is running on an autopilot frequency he and Keith share. They charge each other, their staffs crossing for the millionth time, but for some reason it feels different now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lance throws him off and goes for the legs. Sweeping his feet out from underneath effectively throwing off his balance. As he falls Lance slips his bo up Keith’s hamstring. Hoisting his leg up, effectively trapping him in a lock. A stunned silence settles over the room. And that’s when the realization washes over Lance.As he sits there between Keith’s legs, looking down at the mans chest where his dog tags rest in the dips of his collar bones, watching as they rise and fall. He realizes that they’re breathing in perfect unison. And it seems so does Keith, because when he meets the taller mans eyes there’s a knowing glint in them.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Enough.” Alfor breaks their silence. “I’ve seen what I need to see.” Lance releases Keith from the intimate hold. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me too.” Keith tucks his dog tags back into his tank top as they stand. “He’s my copilot.” He claps a hand over Lance’s shoulder. He discreetly pinches the meat if his palm just to double check. Nope this is real. Holy shit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not going to work.” Alfor shoots him down immediately. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I said so Mr. Kogane.” He uses his dad voice, aka his not so calm posh British voice, for emphasis. “I made my decision. Report to the shatterdome in two hours and find out who you’re copilot will be.” He leaves no room for argument as he turns on his heels out of the training room. Of course. Why wouldn’t he do this? He’s done it every single time Lance has attempted to prove he has what it takes, but it never seems to measure up. He breaks out of Keith’s hold and makes his way back to his shoes and jacket. The heat from the sure fire compatibility leaving him already.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s rounding the corner to the dorms when Keith catches up to him. His shirt thrown on and his shoelaces stuffed into the tongue of his boots. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lance!” Ignore him, just let him feel rejected so he stops going after something that will never happen. It’s what Alfors been doing to him. “What was all of that about? I mean, I’m not crazy you felt it too right?” This dude sure was riding the high of their sparring session. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We are drift compatible.” They stop in front of Lances door. Keith rather close to him and he can smell his cologne again. Only now it’s mixed with a earthiness he was acquainted with on the mat. If this is how this guy smells when he sweats god help Lance this just isn’t fair.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you for standing up for me, but there is nothing to talk about.” Lance jerks the door, but it doesn’t budge. Now? Of all the times to act up now was the time?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you mind if I...” Lance let’s Keith have a go at opening it. And just like he showed him yesterday he calmly jostles the handle and opens the door. “Thank you.” Lance says under his breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you wanted to be a pilot. Lance,” his voice is determined as Lance steps up into his doorway. “this is worth fighting for. We don’t have to just obey him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lance pauses, laughing to himself a little painfully. He thinks this is about obedience? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If only it was. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not about obedience Mr. Kogane.” He switches on the professionalism. After how close they had just been, how connected, he feels the need to re-establish that line for himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s about respect.” He closes his door at that. The silence rings in his ears, until he hears a faint “It’s Keith.” from the other side of the door. His clunky combat boots sounding as they go down the short steps to Lance’s door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A heavy exhale falls from his mouth as the footsteps fade out. Recalling how yesterday he was in the exact same position, thinking about how tough today was going to be. He truly had no idea what was in store.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me writing Lance describing Keith: Now let add a little,,, SpiCe, to that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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